Blood Wyne (11 page)

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Authors: Yasmine Galenorn

Tags: #Romance, #General, #Paranormal, #Fiction

BOOK: Blood Wyne
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Nerissa loved me. She knew
what
I was and
she loved me
. And I could love her without destroying her. My sisters loved me, and I could love them without losing them.
At that moment I realized that I’d been so afraid of having everything I cared about stripped away from me that I’d been holding myself back. Yes, I was a predator, and I was deadly and dangerous. But I still owned my soul. Dredge had taken my life, but he couldn’t touch my soul.
I shuddered, my face streaked with the trail of bloodred tears staining my cheeks. “Roman, make love to me. Fuck me. Take me down, into the darkness, and show me the beauty of the grave.”
He smiled, icy and chill, his eyes mirroring the snow around us, and slowly entered me, his hips thrusting slowly at first and then harder and faster. As the gentleness fled, we became stag and deer in rut; we thrashed, moaning and grunting in the night, as the wind howled around us and then, under the wailing darkened moon, I fastened my fangs in his neck and drank the life force of the dead.
 
After a long shower in a bath off a guest room filled with perfume bottles and fancy clothes and antique dolls, I dressed in my clothes and rejoined Roman in the parlor. He was perfectly at ease, his hair wet and slicked back, and he was wearing a black velvet jacket and a pair of indigo-wash jeans.
He rose silently as I entered the room and held out his arms. Back in control of myself, I hesitated but then let him pull me in. He placed a kiss on my forehead, then a gentle kiss on my lips, then stepped back and gazed into my eyes.
“Tonight, you will talk to your friend Wade?”
I nodded, slowly. Talking to my “friend” Wade was still on my
Really-Do-Not-Want
list, but I’d given my word. “Yes, I will.”
“Then perhaps this will help you. The vampire killer you seek? There are several newly minted vampires in the area. My servants have mentioned problematic incidents dealing with someone new to the life who refuses to answer when called, who seems to have run amok from his sire. Or if he’s still under the influence of his sire, then we have twin problems.”
“What do they know about him?” I slowly returned to my seat and flipped out a notebook. Delilah had gotten both Camille and me in the habit of carrying pocket-sized notepads and pens.
Roman considered the question. “Not much. We know that it’s a male, and he can’t have been in the life longer than six months, but my guess is we’re talking younger than that. Reports of vampire sightings have increased around the Greenbelt Park District, and none of the regulars in the area claim territory there.”
The Greenbelt Park District. Crap. That was the area where we’d found our victims. And now that I thought about it, the Greenbelt Park District was also known for being haunted, although I rather doubted the veracity of all the reports. Some of the oldest buildings in aboveground Seattle were there, including several bed-and-breakfasts that played on their haunted nature to attract tourists. Most of the buildings were the original stone and masonry work, and the houses in the area were owned by old-money families or young, rich couples looking to renovate. The area wasn’t considered
wealthy
, but it was considered historical.
“I know vampires don’t congregate around there, but I haven’t had the time to find out why. Tell me—why hasn’t anybody claimed it as territory?”
Roman glanced at me, then shook his head. “The ghosts. They’re very active.”
“Then they’re real?” I frowned. I’d assumed that most of the sightings were contrived to attract the tourists. “Why are vampires afraid, though? What can the ghosts do to them?”
“The ghosts are very real and very dangerous,” Roman said. “To humans, to Fae, and to vampires. There’s something there that empowers them—some energy, some force. At least one vampire died from spiritual activity. A ghost staked her.”
“A
ghost
staked her? You’re kidding?” If ghosts were playing Buffy, then we were in trouble.
“Yes. I was there. I saw the ghostly figure and then a stake rose in the air and went zooming through Elizabetta. She died in a flurry of dust, and we ran and never went back.” He moved closer and brushed my braids back with his hand. “If you investigate there, my dear, please, please be very careful. And tell your sisters to do the same.”
CHAPTER 6
 
 
As I left Roman’s, I decided to take a drive up toward the Greenbelt Park District and look around. I appreciated his warning, but I was capable of taking care of myself, and cautious enough not to be stupid. I’d refrain from entering any buildings and just get a feel for the area before bringing my sisters into potential danger. I was a lot more resilient than they were.
As I entered the neighborhood—a short jaunt from the Belles-Faire District in which we lived—the city gave way to more greenery. Fir and cedar soared into the sky along the sides of the street, covered with lacy black moss streaming down like spiderwebs. The buildings shifted from old brick to old stonework and masonry, brooding and heavy. They fit right in with the shroud of trees that surrounded the area.
I pulled alongside a large community park near where the dead girls had been found and jumped out of my car. A strange tang to the air caught my attention, though I couldn’t pinpoint whether it was the storm or something else. Granted, it was snowing and that always brought its own sense of magic, but there was something unsettled here. And if I could feel it, then it had to be strong.
Pocketing my keys, I silently moved to the park entrance and easily leaped over the wrought-iron gates, the heels of my boots lightly tapping on the sidewalk as I landed again. The beads clicking in my hair were about the only sound I made now that I was a vampire, and at times I deliberately wore clothing with buckles and heels and chains so that I’d feel a little more . . .
alive
.
The park lights were on, even though the gates were locked. I followed the cobblestone path through the maze of trees and benches and picnic tables. Every now and then a shift in the light took on the shape of a moving shadow, stopping me. I noticed a dark spot over in the midst of a thicket of cedars, near a picnic table, and I headed off the path, my heels leaving soft impressions in several inches of snow that had piled up.
As I wound my way through the poorly manicured ferns and bushes, I smelled something. There was only one thing in the world that smelled so wonderful—
blood
. Crap.
Following my nose, I traced the scent through the undergrowth, hoping I was wrong. But no matter how much you prepare yourself, there’s no good way to find a body. And find it I did: a young woman lying stark against the snow, her skirt pushed up and her panties missing. Her legs were spread, and blood trickled down from her inner thigh.
Dizzy, I dropped back on the ground, sitting beside the pale victim. One glance confirmed that the girl fit the pattern we’d noticed. Probably five six, one thirty-five, looked somewhere between twenty and thirty. Raped. And by the pale look of her skin, exsanguinated. She was freshly dead—no rigor yet.
I looked away, listening to the sounds around me.
A rustle in the bushes, and the snuffle of the stray dog causing it. The sound of snow falling muffled against the ground. The light whistle of the breeze ruffling through the firs.
Glancing back at the girl, I grimaced. Whoever had done this had left her in disarray, without respect, splayed for anybody to find. I wanted to cover her genitals, rearrange her so she could reclaim her dignity, but I had to wait for Chase and his team to get here.
Sighing, I pulled out my cell phone and punched in his number. While I waited for him to pick up, something struck me about the girl. Something off. Her forehead—what—?
“Johnson here.”
“Chase, it’s Menolly. I found another victim.”
“Crap. Where are you?”
I told him where I was and how I’d come to be here, and he said he’d be down with a team within ten minutes. Pocketing the phone again, I leaned down to look at the girl’s brow. Her eyes were staring up at me, glassy and vacant.
“I’m sorry. I wish I could close them,” I whispered. “I don’t know who you are, and until Chase comes, I can’t look to find out. I don’t know if you’re still around here in spirit—that’s my sister Camille’s territory—but I’m sorry. I’m sorry he did this to you. I’m sorry he left you here alone. I’m sorry I can’t do anything for you except sit beside you and keep the animals at bay.”
I didn’t want to look at her, but as I leaned over her delicate, blank face, I saw it again—something on her forehead. I pulled out a pen flashlight and flipped it on, leaning closer. There, something wet. Something faint against her skin. It could have been snow falling on her and melting, but when I leaned in close, it looked like nothing less than a cross, drawn in water, on her brow.
Frowning, I leaned back. Most vampires didn’t hold any truck with religious symbology—it was a nonissue for them. I had little to do with the gods. They hadn’t been there for me when I was screaming for them, as Dredge ripped into me. And now, I didn’t need them. As far as I was concerned, the gods could fuck themselves.
So why had the killer drawn a cross on her forehead after he killed her? Or had someone else been here and gone between the time she was murdered and the time I found her?
Pondering the answers, I looked up at the snow falling. In the distance, I could hear the faint shouts of Chase’s men as they came racing down the path. They skidded to a halt about ten feet from me, as Chase and Sharah lightly crossed to my side.
“You should get some crime scene tape up. You’ll want evidence. Even if this is another vampire slaying, and it is, you need to follow protocol.” I stood up. “I haven’t touched her, though I sat beside her before I thought about what I might be disturbing.”
Chase shook his head and motioned for me to move to the side with him as Sharah took over, leading the team into action. “She human?”
“As the sun is bright.” I glanced back, again wincing as they began taking photographs and processing the area. “Do they have to photograph her like that? It’s so undignified.”
“I know,” he said, lightly touching my elbow to turn me away from the scene. “I’m sorry, but we need the photos for evidence.” He glanced back at the body. “I’m sorry you had to find this.”
“I know something about our killer. Or at least I think I do.” I kicked the snow with my boot. “I think he was religious in life. Or he’s superstitious. He’s not remorseful—he doesn’t leave the bodies in a dignified manner. But he drew a cross on her forehead. I saw it, though it’s probably dried by now.”
Chase frowned, pursing his lip. “Vampires wouldn’t do that, would they?”
“Not most of the ones I know. But I can smell the scent of the undead on her. I know a vampire did this.” The scent was all over her, dank and fresh as the grave.
“Do you think he may be working with humans? Someone who might have decided to draw the cross afterward?” He tapped his notebook with his pen and glanced at me, waiting.
My turn to frown. Would a vampire work with humans? “I suppose it’s possible, though not likely. But he might have his stable with him, if he has one, or people under his glamour. Regardless of how deadly, or even how grotesque, all vampires have an innate charm. Whatever footprints were here are covered up by now. The snow . . . it’s falling hard.”
“The weather’s been getting pretty freaky the past few years. Must be global warming.” Chase pushed back his sleeve to look at his watch. “It’s near to four in the morning. What were you doing out here?”
I shrugged. “Got a lead on our serial killer.” I laid out what Roman had told me about the area. “I wanted to look around before putting anybody else in danger. It’s not safe in this area of the city for people. Or vampires. Except our murderer, apparently.”
Chase glanced around at the tree-shrouded park. “We do get a lot of reports of injuries from this district, and there have been several unexplained deaths over the years around here. I can believe it’s haunted. There were a lot of fights here in the old days. A lot of skirmishes between different factions—some racial, others political.”
“Any of those unexplained deaths happen to be murders like our girls?”

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